


The Queen and Her Knight

by Ozma



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Amaurotine Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Ascians (Final Fantasy XIV), Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-10-01 19:24:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20379115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozma/pseuds/Ozma
Summary: Halmarut tells his children a tale before bed.A tale of labyrinths and loneliness - of a grumpy King, His Queen, and the Knight who risked everything to save Her.





	The Queen and Her Knight

**Author's Note:**

> While there are theories as to Halmarut's true name, without confirmation I am hesitant to use it. So for now he's just going to be addressed as Halmarut. With confirmation at a later time, I might change how the PoV addresses him.
> 
> I had a bit of fun with this; Halmarut's a bit eccentric because, honestly, that's the main trait we know of him. When you run through Anyder, there's a chance of encountering the Mandragora family, implying he bred or Created them. This builds from that.
> 
> Thanks as always to lovely Zahira for her feedback.

The sun is long since set; distant stars, flickering with life, dance across the sky in an idyllic end to the daily cycle.

Would that you could say such of your household.

The children's rapid footfall patters down the hallway, audible before lively giggles inevitably reach your ears.

“Calm down, sprouts, ‘tis time for bed!” Their father’s scolding is wholly ineffectual when he all but chases them to their room, chuckling at their antics as if he, too, takes part.

“No running in the house!” You turn from the window as they come into sight, firmness setting them sheepishly to rights.

Together, your small family shuffles into the children's chambers, lit faintly by animated lights in the shapes of various animals, plants, and solar bodies swirling slowly across the ceiling. Eager for a holiday and the freedom it provides, bedtime preparations have little calming effect on the two tiny ‘sprouts,’ and the air fills with a persistent, excited buzz.

Unfortunately, ‘tis Halmarut’s wont to indulge.

Oh, how dearly he adores the children.

“You mean I’ve not told the tale of the Queen and Her Knight?” From an overlarge pile of toys, your beloved digs, pulling out a set of familiar mandragoras. Splitting them on the beds between the children, he keeps the King on his lap.

Described as eccentric at best by his colleagues, Halmarut's proficiency at parenting was a surprise to those unfamiliar with him. His more _curious_ tendencies easily elicit imagination; having long since treated his Creations like children, acting as father to sprouts of his flesh proves an engaging task in which he excels – in his own ways – though your firmer hand proves necessary equally as often.

Seating himself in the reading chair at the foot of their beds, Halmarut shifts his attentions between each child equally. The faint light makes details of their expressions unclear, but their demeanors reveal growing impatience.

“It happened on a night not unlike this. To the Queen’s chamber, the Jester came, dancing his merry jig.” He points to the Jester, taking it from your daughter's bed and emulating, with remarkable accuracy, the strange, unbalanced dance he commanded into the mandragora’s nature. “For She had a special summons this eve.”

What - he wouldn’t tell_ that_ would he –

“Halm –“

Three sets of eyes focus on you, two in curiosity and one in mischief and the words fade. Momentarily, you consider repeating yourself, but ‘tis no secret – Keeper, is it e’er no secret – what happened that day. You’d sooner the children hear it from their father than the myriad of individuals who would be far too willing to share the ‘Queen’s’ exploits.

If naught else, you’ll not deny the children their father’s curiosities. If he was so easily dissuaded from his nonsensical courses, he’d ne’er have reached the heights he has.

And Halmarut soars through the canopy.

Ignoring the anticipatory pleading of the children, he meets your eyes.

A smile and nod are your confirmation. “Was it necessary to make him a _garlic?_ My desk smelled for nigh half a seasonal cycle.”

Easily distinguishable from the myriad of foul scents that often leak through the Akadaemia from failed experiments, its remnants were evidence enough of your venture, easily confirming all rumors.

“Don’t heed your mother, she’s just sour that she doesn’t have a Jester of her own.”

They giggle and Halmarut continues as if uninterrupted.

“’To the Gardens,’ the Jester cried to his singular audience, ‘where treasure awaits!’ and, in Her desperate loneliness, the Queen roused quickly.”

You were far from lonely, but the truth is beyond a child's ken and instead keep your peace, letting memory accompany tale.

“The Queen and Jester traveled the castle’s twisting and winding passages; as they approached the garden, the Queen’s anticipation – “

“What’s ‘ticipation?’” The younger girl holds tight to the Queen and Jester, not wanting them separated.

“They _really _wanted to get to the garden.” Halmarut smoothly corrects his mistake. “But as they rounded the final corner, disaster struck! As luck would have it, the King was on a break, ready to enter the gardens Himself.”

“Why does the King look like Professor Lahabrea?” This time, the older boy interrupts, pointing to the King in Halmarut’s lap.

It takes all your self-control for your forehead not to fall into your hands.

_Of course,_ it was intentional.

Lahabrea had stopped you, reasonably curious as to why a respected member of the Akadaemia was following a _walking_ garlic. An answer elusive, even to you, for Halmarult’s is truly a unique mind. A simple invitation would have sufficed.

“Hmm. Mayhaps your mother can answer that.” Halmarut does not even try to hide his tease.

‘The vivid reactions of one so stoic are a delight,’ he had once confessed his intent, and who could deny such endearment?

“Let your father tell his tale. I’d like to hear how they got into the gardens.” A blatant evasion, one Halmarut proves unexpectedly agreeable to.

“The Jester rushed ahead, and drew the King away with his antics, which afforded the Queen an opportunity to slip through.”

The sprouts hold onto their father’s words with bated breath, the tiny girl clutching the stuffed Queen to her chest.

“But, to the Queen’s alarm, there was naught to be found.” Even from your place near the door, the children’s gasps and your lover’s chuckles are musical. “Do not look so distressed, the Jester had spoken the truth. Before the Queen, a labyrinth awaited.”

Halmarut had truly outdone himself. As prerequisite of title, all successors of _Halmarut_ pass the knowledge of the original down, and the elaborate maze he had Created with the combined knowledge of past and present was beyond any wildest imaginings. 

Through choice color and species, Halmarut had proven his knowledge, having noted any blossoms that held your attentions during breaktime wanderings. You’d not known the intensity of his observation until offered a gift so extraordinary that it might well have leapt from dreams.

“Through the hedges the Queen traveled, lost in the garden’s temptations. The flowers whispered of happiness and contentment, for She yearned for a home not wholly unlike ours.”

A hand finds its way to the glow of warmth budding in your breast.

“For so long did She wander that the ‘treasure’ soon wondered if it might have been abandoned, the King having stolen the Queen’s love from Her breast. It feared that She would live in eternal solitude on Her throne.”

Lahabrea is not –

You make no effort to still a sigh, wholly certain Halmarut recognizes it.

‘Tis true that how others perceived you was more prison than any truth. Theirs were the binds of constant implication; even when clarified that you and Lahabrea were and would remain only companions, assumptions were made and opinions held, whispers behind your backs as you worked all too frequent.

“If there’s treasure, there must have been traps!”

“Indeed.” Halmarut swiftly molds his tale to the child's expectations. “The most beautiful plants lured the Queen with their scent, but behind their elegant petals were giant, carnivorous maws!”

In the darkness, ‘tis impossible to be certain, but traces of a smile grace his lips.

“So near was She to succumbing that they snipped off one of her leaves!”

Oh, ‘tis definitely a smile – more a self-satisfied smirk, in truth.

O_f course_ he knows about _that_.

How often he warns you not to touch - that, though you might not see them, plants have their defenses. But the vibrant colors lining one wall had proven irresistible.

Disregarding the words of a master is an affair for fools and, fortuitously, your mistake led to naught more than a single thorn's prick. Halmarut must have restrained himself, just so that he might take advantage of the knowledge at a more opportune time.

One quite like this.

“But ne’er fear! At long last, She reached the center of the labyrinth and the treasure –“

Such effective use of pauses are highly reminiscent of Lahabrea's methods; you'll be certain to point his influence out later.

“Only to find Her close friend and guardian, the Eggplant Knight, who had long since lost hope that his Queen was coming. ‘twas he who summoned the Queen, knowing of Her love for the gardens.”

“The Knight was the treasure!” So excited are the sprouts’ unified cries that you cannot distinguish the speaker.

“That he was. The Queen was so excited that She ran into the Knight’s arms. ‘The King cannot reach you here.’ He had murmured. Their leaves twined and the Knight escorted the Queen from Her castle, where they lived together, happily ever after.

And that is the tale of how the Queen blossomed.” He motions gently to the bright pink flower decorating the stuffed mandragora’s head, displaying its velveteen petals.

Instinctively, you finger the identical pink crystal adoring your hair, precious enough to be worn daily, even beneath your hood.

The story over, Halmarut pushes himself from the chair and replaces the King, but before he can make it a pace, your son tugs at his hand.

“But what of the Jester?” For the first time this eve, Halmarut is caught off guard; his eyes dart to you.

Your arms cross over your chest, making no effort to conceal your smirk. After such toying, he’ll untie the knot on his own.

“That’s right! He helped the Queen too!”

Halmarut’s hesitation is brief but noticeable, if only to you. 

The Garlic Jester had served his purpose and returned to the soil, but such an ending is not fitting for a child's tale.

“When the King learned of the Queen’s departure, the Jester feigned ignorance. The King was no fool; Knowing the Jester’s role, the King immediately ordered his roast. But little did the King know –“

Pausing once more for dramatic effect, he lifts the Jester from the girl’s arms and holds it high above his head.

“-The Jester was an avatar of the Judge-Sal!”

The sprouts gasp and giggle; having shed any remaining pretense of truth, at least he'll have no more excuse for his incessant teases.

“As the cause of the Queen’s loneliness, the King was declared guilty. In His punishment, the King was condemned to walk the lands alone as a phantom, losing His kingdom.”

A phantom.

Your husband ne’er ceases to prove your assumptions inaccurate.

Half-stifled giggles at last erupt from you as they do the children, barely hidden behind a feigned cough.

Lahabrea had found the animated plants highly conductive to foreign energies, proving effective hosts in summoning experiments.

How bitter Halmarut must remain, that he returns to _that_ argument.

“Did the Prince rule after the King’s punishment?” The boy wonders, holding up the Prince from his lap.

“Indeed. The Judge-Sal had fulfilled his duty admirably. In the wake of his father’s mistakes, the Prince became a fair and wise ruler, who married his Queen for love.”

The little girl picks up the stuffed Queen and holds her close with a giggling yawn, sleep at last starting to claim its next victims.

“A lovely story, but ‘tis time for rest.” Disregarding any fussy whines from sleepy children, you approach each, kissing their foreheads – and that of any offered mandragoras – with a smile.

The light flickers off and the door closes at your back.

“Quite the hero, that Knight.” You tease, taking his hand, returning to the living room together.

“Hmm. . .I thought I minimized his role quite well.”

“The Akadaemia will ne’er let me live it down.” To this day, new students shyly approach, hoping to confirm any truths that might be found in the tales.

“No.” He agrees, his arms twining around your waist and drawing you near.

It seems there were some few truths withheld from Halmarut’s tale.

To this day, the Queen remains quite trapped by the labyrinth’s tendrils, guided through its twists by Her steadfast and loyal Knight.

Just as you would keep it.


End file.
